Let’s Not [Obliterate]

 

The promised snow was a lie. Instead, another last wave of heat was hitting the end of November.

The calmest moments of Theora’s days happened at work — no practice, no need to save anyone, and no heartthrob while cuddling Dema. Theora decided to cut the grass on the large forest cemetery meadow one last time that year; it had grown a lot during those mild last months.

Cutting grass was fun, so Theora tended to do it more often than necessary, finding every excuse to get it done. Something about the activity gave her respite. When it started raining halfway through, she did not mind, and she was almost sad when she eventually made her way to the shed after it was all done. Inside, she found Dema, sheltered from the rain, sitting at the old working desk, leaning over a piece of paper with an ink pen in hand.

“Oh, you’re here,” Theora let out in mild surprise.

Dema turned around, smiling. “Oh! Yeah I was around while running errands and wanted to say hello, but you looked busy so I thought I’d wait.”

Theora nodded to Dema’s writing. “You seem busy too.” 

“Yep… struggling to write a letter.”

Theora cleaned her scythe and stored it away together with the rake. Then her gaze fell on all the other tools lying in the back half of the shed; she’d been meaning to tidy that up for ages. So… if it meant spending more time with Dema, perhaps she could just do that now, while they were both here.

“Do you have enough to drink?” Theora asked, and by the way Dema’s face scrunched up, she could guess the answer. So Theora fetched one of her two drinking flasks filled with cold brew tea and put one next to Dema’s desk. “There. Please drink enough.”

Dem’s face lit up as she unscrewed the lid. “That’s your specialty, right?”

Theora blinked. “My what?”

“Your specialty.”

Theora nodded. “I understood the word. I just… you mean, I’m good at it?”

Now it was time for Dema to blink. “Which word? Either way, I meant the tea only you can make.”

Theora nervously shifted her weight between her feet. Yes, it was that tea. She didn’t always use her Skill when she prepared leaves for Dema. But the tea she took to work was always her — well, special tea. Because that way, it would stay ‘fresh’ throughout the day. Meaning it would stay cool on hot summer noons, and warm in winter. It also just tasted better.

Dema nonchalantly took a sip, and then she laughed a happy laugh. “Never gets old,” she said, and drank a bit more. “You shouldn’t be so shy with this.” Dema diligently finished the flask within a few minutes, her eyes darting over to Theora again and again. “Are you gonna make me more when we get home?”

“We have other drinks at home,” Theora tried, her voice weak.

“Like what?”

“Like… water…”

“Why! … Please?”

Theora’s heart fluttered in her chest like a bunch of crumpled paper in a breeze. “Fine,” she said. “I can make tea for you, if you would like.” As Dema’s face was brightening up, Theora decided to quickly change the topic. “So, why is the letter causing you trouble?”

“It’s just… a lot? Like, I can’t decide what to put in and what to leave out. It’s getting so long!”

Theora didn’t remember having ever written a letter before, and she didn’t think she’d run into similar problems. “Perhaps the person doesn’t mind receiving a long letter.”

Dema’s eyes widened. “Right!” She looked at the words she’d written. “It’s like Zappie said, I gotta keep my audience in mind when I write something. So you think I should just write down everything I can think of?”

“Why not?” Theora was inspecting an old can with stale water inside. “If you’d be struggling with writing the letter otherwise.”

“I mean, it’s not the only thing I’m struggling with…”

“What else?”

Dema shoved her hand into her hair to ruffle it, leaning back in the chair. Theora had to avert her gaze or she’d start wanting to kiss her neck during work.

“It’s… I don’t know how things are gonna go, so there’s something I wanna tell her in case I don’t get any other chances to do it. About my past. But the memory keeps fading when I start thinking about it. Feels like I’m just writing gibberish.”

This sounded eerily familiar. “I have moments like that too. Perhaps you could wait for a time when your head is clearer, and write it then?”

“But what if that’s too late?”

Theora considered the possibility. “In that case, do you think the person would mind if you are writing down a bit of gibberish? Perhaps that would be fine.”

Dema tipped the chair back with an extended foot, leg on full display. Dema was so… there was really no other word for it — Dema was hot. Theora sighed, and took her eyes off to sort different sizes of drills.

“Maybe,” Dema mused.

“You are spending a lot of thought on that letter,” Theora observed. “You seem to treasure the person you are addressing.”

“Why, yeah, I do!”

“They must be one, then. A treasure.” Theora would like to meet her.

“Love hearing you praise yourself like that.”

Theora dropped a bag of bolts. Heat shot into her head while she tried to gather them back up. “I— You don’t have to write letters to me. You can just tell me. I’m right here.”

As Dema spoke, Theora heard the smile through the words. “Well, maybe there’s some things that are easier to write than say in person.”

Really? “I could see that, perhaps. Maybe I should try it too.”

“Plus,” Dema continued, “Letters are kinda cruel and mean, so they fit right in with my brand.”

Theora couldn’t help but laugh. “How are letters cruel?”

“Well, it’s ’cause they are totally one-sided. Recipient can’t interrupt, can’t add their own thoughts. You’re like, totally defenceless while reading. The sender of the letter can do whatever they want with their words, and you could stop reading of course, but then you’d never find out what they really had to say.”

Dema was biting her lips and smiling. As Theora tried stealing a glance at the paper, Dema knowingly shifted it away.

“Not done yet,” she said. “Gotta wait a little longer.”

Theora closed her eyes, and sighed. She was going to kiss Dema so many times once they got home, in revenge.

“How much longer need I wait? Until after the festival?”

“Oh?” Dema perked her eyebrows. “Did Serim manage to get us some last-minute tickets?”

Theora nodded. She’d received notice an hour or so ago; they’d attend a festival over the coming weekend, not as players, but to listen to people with more experience.

“That’s nice,” Dema said. “That means we’re gonna camp together!”

Theora was well aware. Dema had cold hands, so she was planning on keeping her warm at night.

As the initial excitement about the news wore off, Dema looked back at her letter, and then tapped on the desk. “Not sure,” she eventually replied. “If I’ll be done before the festival. Actually, I gotta do super secret scheming prep-work for the festival too. And write songs! Just drowning in work lately…” 

Contrary to her words, she seemed very cheerful. 

Theora said, “If you need help with anything, please let me know.”

“Well… you’re really busy too, though.”

That comment made Theora realise she’d barely been getting any work done, so she fussed to continue tidying up. 

It was true — they were both very busy, although Theora had a suspicion that Dema was aligning most of her work with when Theora was either out or asleep, to make sure they had more time together. 

But during the festival, Theora would have no shifts and no work. She found herself looking forward to it for that reason first and foremost; the idea of spending four entire days around Dema.